


The Story against the Kings

by ThisisJustaFan



Series: The Kings [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:41:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisisJustaFan/pseuds/ThisisJustaFan
Summary: My life has never been easy, no one's has in this kingdom if you're not born in the right family. My life isn't pretty or sweet or nice but I've made do with my situation, lost a family and found a new one. They're not perfect, in any way, but they took care of me when I needed it. I was lost, cold and hungry but they found me, kept me warm, fed me and gave me purpose, and I can never thank them enough.





	The Story against the Kings

I remember when I was ten, what the Old King did. He came to my hut personally, unusual but not unheard of. I was awake when they came, a restless insomniac, and I had hidden when they started banging on the door, just as my parents had taught us. I didn’t wake up the others. That was my biggest regret, it still is, I had left them to die while I ran and hid in the underground tunnels my parents had built themselves. I could hear screams of my older sister but I didn’t turn back, didn’t think of turning back, just like my parents taught me.

“If they come, run, run and keep on running, don’t turn back, no matter what you hear, see or smell.” My mother had told me and my sisters this for as long as I can remember. “You must put yourself first.” My father would whisper in our ears like some sort of secret, I had seen little girls and their mothers in big, bright, colourful dresses do the same as we walked past them in the market. “One or two of us leaving is better than all of us leaving.” He would say, that part always confused me, “wouldn’t it be better if we all left as a family?” I always had replied, he merely chucked at my innocent and naïve question, only now do I know that he didn’t mean leaving the city.

I remember the months I’d spent in the underground tunnels, I’d spent the first few hours waiting for the others at the arranged meeting spot in the underground tunnels my parents had drilled into us, “if we ever get separated” they’d say. I actually stayed there for a while, hoping for someone to find me. It was Martia who had found me; cold, starving, and about as close to death as one could get, I was still in my pajamas from that day, ruined from the dirt and sweat. I had had my duvet around me but it was old and worn out and did little to protect me from the cold of the freezing tunnels. She saved me and took me to see Doc.

Martia is two years older than me and has been in the rebellion for a lot longer than me. She is like an older sister to me, finding me all those years ago and so close to death seems to have made her quite protective of me, there are rumours about her but rumours are for the rich and snobby so I don’t listen. 

Son is one year older and came when he was five years old. He is quiet and stoic, more likely to watch from the sidelines than take action, but he has a subtle yet large presence, he doesn’t get noticed often but the moment he’s quite hard to ignore, he is quiet and a man of few words but when he does speak his words have meaning. He’s not emotionless though, he looks up to Doc and Martia makes him laugh. Son and I, our relationship is … odd, we’re more likely to spend hours in silence, reading or sleeping, sometimes he’ll draw something and ask to tattoo on me, the tattoos are always temporary, I once asked why he never did it permanently, I had the pain tolerance and the patience for it, he merely responded with a shake of his head and a murmur of my mission.

The mission … I can’t believe it’s over, it had taken up such a large part of my life, head, emotions, I had put everything on hold within the rebelling community for the mission. The Organisers had a meeting I was to attend, it was so nerve-racking, my first time meeting the Organisers since I had joined but even that was with a Sub-Organiser to figure out where I stood in the ranks, finding a job for me and proving who I was, all Sub-Organiser things. I don’t often think about that day when a Sub-Organiser came to the patient’s room where I was staying, telling me about … I had cried a lot that day. The Sub-Organisers just find jobs, make sure you are who you say you are and making sure you stayed hidden from the Royals in public, there were about twenty-five to thirty-five working at a time all getting about 10 years, maybe 15 years if they did well; but the Organisers, they were like the big bosses, there were eight of them and each one had three Planners with them, they made the plans, marches, rallies and sometimes a full-scale attack. Never before, have they sent rebels undercover, claiming it was too risky and they didn’t want to put people in those positions. At the time I was nervous and scared, worried I would fail, but they never pressured me and assured me that training would be put in place. Giving me a month to think it over, they dismissed me. After a lot of thought, my mind going in circles, thinking and rethinking about everything that could go wrong, I went through with it and after a month of training, I left.

Don’t get me wrong, leaving Martia and Doc and Son, as well as others I had grown close with, was hard but I was still thirsting for revenge, whether I realised it or not, my hate was there, bubbling below the surface, and the more I had thought about it the more I realised it was there and once I had realised it was there, nothing else could stop it, it is what drove me for ten years. From the moment I stepped into the royal courtyard wearing my best farmboy outfit, slowly rising up the ranks until I was at James right hand and making decisions for him as well as “advising” Edmund on how to run his small neighbouring country all while subtly handing over information to the rebellion. So many years of always being on guard, carefully planning every step and taking every factor that might alter the situation, all leading to that moment in the throne room.

Finally, I’m free, not from the Kings, but from my own emotions, I can finally live my own life and fall in love and … what do I want to do with this life? I’d never really thought about what I’d do after the Kings were gone, Martia and Son were top priorities, so many years apart will have affected our relationship, but I’ve been so obsessed with the Kings and my mission that I’ve never thought about anything else. I have nothing left inside me, no motive, no need to do anything, I felt numb, kind of empty. 

“Hey!” Shocked out of my thoughts, I look to my left, where the shout came from. It was Martia sitting in the chair next to the recovery bed I was in, she looked concerned, “You okay? We kind’a lost you there.” She grins but I can see the concern in her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.” I brush off her concerns, sitting up and looking around. Son was looking at me, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, it was kind of cute if I’m being honest. “It’s finally over,” I say looking at my hands resting in lap.

I hear the scraping sounds of a visitor chair on my right and Son’s hand grabs my own, I look up at him, watching as he fiddles with my fingers, “It’s nice to have you back.” He says in that deep voice I’ve quickly come to love. Martia nudges my side, gently, as though not to hurt me, but I can feel the teasing undertone, letting Son continue fiddling with my fingers I look at her, she’s grinning, eyes going back and forth between us, “did I miss something?” she seems to be saying, I stick my tongue out at her, scrunching up my face, but I can feel my face heat up and I knew I was blushing, and she laughs that big, uncontainable laugh of hers, that always seemed to big for her size. I look back at my lap at my left hand, Son starts massaging my palm, and I hear Martia shift forward, “Tell me about it later.” She whispers in my ear and gets up to leave. I curse at her and she laughs, ruffling my close-cropped hair, “It’s nice to have your bratty ass back.” She says affectionately and I smile. She leaves and it’s just me and Son, who’s still massaging my hand.

“Missed you.” I murmur sleepily.

He hums and I know he’s smiling, “Sleep,” is all he says, right hand clutching my own and left hand running through my hair, and I do, leaving all my worries and thoughts behind.


End file.
